for Leah (waiting for paint to dry)
.
sometimes
the rainforest
comes off the mountain
and tours
Brisbane’s suburbs
playing its music
bringing the earthy smell
of moist underforest
and clean decay
.
the unfamiliar band sit in trees
playing foreign chords
and we turn our music off
to listen
their sounds seems to call
the mountain weather
down off the
Border Ranges
through Beaudesert
across to the Bay
.
rain falls like a slow thought
rain falls through an invisible leafy canopy
drop by drop
unlike those handfuls
thrown down
in angry Summer storms
.
each drop has its own name
the terracotta tiled roofs shrug
without much comment
tin roofs gossip
exaggerating the heavier showers
giving each drop
its own microphone
.
a bed reading atmosphere
painters complain
construction sites stand
in yesterday’s footprints
.
clouds cuddle into isolated hills
Mt Cotton, Mt Gravatt, Enoggera Hill
awkward, not used to intimacy
.
all of Brisbane drinks for days
not in gulps
but lifting the schooner slowly between
telling old stories of fishing
in Moreton Bay
.
gum tree silhouettes
and bright grey sky
light up puddles on the road
making screen saver circles
never on a loop
.
.
